James Bond and the Final Teacup
by galadriel-nz
Summary: Random idea I had. You probably won't think it's that funny but I wrote it while I had the idea in my head. Which was very quickly.


If you love James Bond, do NOT read this unless you are prepared to see the character abused. I was just sitting around and I had an idea for a stupid villain. So I turned into into a page and a half parody. Please review, I'm curious what people think.

Note: Facts in this story are true, Swaziland is a **landlocked** country in Africa.

The room was dark as he was escorted to a desk. There was a high backed chair behind the desk. It was facing away of course. Bond admired the back of the chair. Even for evil, this was a nice chair. Mahogany, he though, with red leather upholstery. Very nice. He'd have to remember not to blow it up.

In a sudden but not unexpected way, the chair spun around and sitting in it was Bond's most recent arch nemesis who's name was feared in all corners of the globe. His name was the very expression of his evil. It depicted all that was wrong with the world. His name was…

"Er…what was you name again? Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten it while flexing my muscles at a pretty girl in the casino upstairs. You see, she had the most lovely blond…"

"My name is BAD! Mr. Bad!"

"Ahh, Bad, that was the one…" Bond muttered. But of course, the introduction of the name had led to the compulsory villain goes off on one about his horrible achievements speech.

"I am the most feared man in the world! Men in India cower at my very name." Bond frowned. Then he reached into the pocket of the bouncer on his left and pulled out a dictionary of world facts. After glancing at the index he turned to a page, read it briefly, then looked up.

"Ah, are you sure?"

"Sure!? Of course I'm sure you tea-sipping nincompoop! Why?"

"It's just, this Dictionary of World Facts 2007 says that Bad is a census town in India and I was just wondering if you weren't getting a bit mixed up." Mr. Bad paused for a moment. Then he resumed his pre-planned speech, glancing occasionally at the flashcards in his lap.

"You have been doing many bad things Mr Bond," He took a sip from his goblet in the way that only villains can. ",and we do not approve of bad things." Suddenly men came out of the shadows. Tall men. Tall meaning at least six foot three inches. Although I suppose tall could mean anyone who measures more than the average height. Adult heights of Americans of European descent to whom the term "giant" might be applied are seven foot six inches to eight feet in height. But that's straying from the point. They reached into their heavy black coats. Have you noticed how all official bodyguards tend to wear long black coats? In the movies, and the secret service in America, always long black coats.

They reached into those trademark garments and each of them produced the ultimate weapon. Nobody is sure who first used them as weapons, but as far as the natural world goes, they are the perfect hitman's tool. They were wet fish. And they were deadly.

Bond paled. "You'll never break me! Never!" but his voice was high and the villain was laughing maniacally. The room was filled with the sound of scales on flesh as Bond's torture began. There was also a short plop on one occasion, where one of the henchmen had dropped his tool. The henchman in question was 23 years old and was using a haddock as his choice fish. He blushed and all in the room turned to look at him. Then he quietly fished himself into oblivion to save his friends the trouble. The torture continued.

"STOP! OK! I'll give them to you!" The henchmen ceased in their merciless beating.

"Excellent! Um..what exactly will you give me?"

"Whatever you asked for at the start!" Mr. Bad shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, you see, the thing is, we got a bit carried away and started a bit too early." All in the room looked at their shoes guiltily.

"Oh, well…what shall we do?"

"I don't know. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Why yes, that would be very ni-"

_We interrupt this program for n advertisement break. _

"_Yeehaw! The best fish in all of Swaziland! Come 'un get yer fresh Alaskan salmon, straight from our very own cardboard boxes! Yeehaw!"_

Bond sipped his tea. Then he noticed too late it was poisoned. He lay gasping on the floor.

"You see Mr. Bond, I am very bad."

"Yes, I'd noticed." Bond gasped out. "Would you like to have another cup with me in the near future?"

"But you're dying Mr. Bond, so how is that possible?"

"Yours is poisoned too, didn't you read the script?" Bond laughed.

"What? The writer is killing me too? But that's just not the done thing! It's rude to kill both mai-"

R.I.P Mr. (Oh damn, we've forgotten his name again)

R.!.l Jan es Pono

Footnote: This grave was robbed on 12th January 2007, 15 of January 2007 and blown up a few days later.


End file.
